Black Beauty
by Cagliari
Summary: Based on the book by Anna Sewell, Sarah is a servant for a faraway king. As she trades hands from one lord to the next, she experiences both cruelty and kindness, but will she ever actually find true love?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: A Labyrinth take on the famous classic "Black Beauty" by Anna Sewell. Even if you have not read the book, you should still be able to follow the plot.  
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My early life was fair for a human servant, I suppose. I don't remember too much before the age of eight, so I cannot speak for anything before that. I can, however, clearly recall much else. Our lord was kind and compassionate, and never put us younger ones to the hard work of our mothers and fathers. If we ever did jobs, they were trivial, menial tasks such as helping feed the horses or chasing the faeries out of the castle gardens. We never wanted for anything, never went hungry, and were never cast out. It was a good home.

The other servant children were content to play docile games of tag or hide and seek, but whenever I accompanied my mother to the market and she sent me off to play, the games turned a bit wilder. The young boys there were most uncouth and unfriendly, and loathed the mere _idea _of playing with a _girl_. So whenever they saw me, they fell on me the moment my mother was out of sight. This game usually wound up being me fleeing through the market stalls, pursued by such vicious boys you might have thought they were a pack of hellhounds. Sometimes they would catch me and rough me up a bit, and other times, I was able to outlast them. I didn't mind it so much; they treated the other servant children the same way, and I usually escaped with nothing more than minor scratches.

One day, they caught me as my mother was coming around the corner, her arms laden with all kinds of kitchen foodstuffs. I went down under half a dozen flailing fists, but came up again just as quickly. My dress was torn, my hair wild, and blood was trickling down my face from a cut above my eyebrow. But they didn't look their best either; one's hand was bleeding where I had bitten it, and two others were already developing bruises on their big ugly faces from where my punches and kicks had landed.

They had been preparing to advance on me again, I could tell from the way their hands were raised and their teeth were bared, and I prepared to run again, but a well-aimed apple sailed through the air, and the next thing I knew, one of the boys was on his knees, clutching his nose. The fruit bounced to the ground and rolled away harmlessly as my mother stalked up, another apple clenched in her hand. The gang turned tail and fled while my mother grabbed my by the arm.

"My precious babe!" She cried softly as she took in my dirty face and torn clothes. "Did those bad boys hurt you? Is this where you've really been getting hurt?"

I had been telling my mother that we played in the woods to explain my cuts and ripped dresses. I knew if she got wind of our real play, she would put a stop to it and I would have to endure hours of being dragged behind her like a dog from one food stall to the next.

"_Mama_." I squirmed out of her grasp with difficulty. "It was just a game."

"Just a…?" For a moment, she looked relieved. But the next, her eyes grew hard. "Listen to me, Sarah. Have you not been brought up well? Have you not learned manners? Those boys are the sons of poor farmers and blacksmiths; they know nothing of manners. You will soon be a servant of the King, and wherever you go, others will look at you and make judgments of his court based on who serves him. Do you want to give them the impression that our kingdom is filled with wild, violent savages?"

I cast my eyes down and shook my head.

My mother nodded in an approving fashion and took my hand, leading me out of the market. The next time I went down with her, I kept close to her and tried to look regal, though it was painfully boring to spend the morning looking at food. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gang following warily, circling as vultures do when they spot a carcass. I ignored them.

Another day found me with a flock of older girls, all in the late teenage years. We were by the clotheslines, removing the dry clothes from their pins before folding them neatly and placing them in the basket. I helped where I could, but I was still rather short, and couldn't reach most of the pins, so I mostly sat there while the older girls fondled my soft hands and braided my dark tresses; their own hands were calloused and worn, and their hair had a frayed, harried look to it. I enjoyed the attention, for their hands were gentle and their words kindly.

Whistling made us all look up; one of the young guards was leaning again the castle wall, and when he'd seen he had our attention, he winked at us. I didn't understand, but the other girls looked disgruntled and offended, and one even mimicked throwing the basket at him. Amused, the guard made what I would come to know later as a _very _rude gesture, and my girls curled their lips with disgust, turning their backs on him and going back to the clothes in a stony silence.

I went back to work with them the next day, and the same guarded was still there, snickering behind his hand at the disgusted glares he received. I only stole a few furtive glances, not wanting to get too involved, but interested all the same. A shocked yelp from the wall made us all jump, and we looked around in alarm.

The newcomer was royalty, that much was obvious by his proud, haughty features and fine clothing. He had the guard by the ear, and was shouting things into his face I will not repeat. When he let him go, the guard cowered and ran off as quickly as he could. The other man glided over to our little group, where we all automatically dropped in curtsies. He waved a hand in our direction in an almost disdainful fashion before continuing on. I bristled, stung; though he was above us in station, most other nobles took the time to smile or greet us with a polite "good morning, misses". He had barely given us a glance.

For once, it seemed I was the only one in a snit. The other girls cooed and giggled and blushed at they eyed his retreating back with admiration. While they chattered on about how _handsome _he had looked and how _blond _his hair was and all that other nonsense, I snatched a shirt off the line with unnecessary vice. All that _I _had seen was an arrogant boy.

That guard never bothered us again, and the next few years passed in relative quiet.

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The next incident happened when I was fourteen.

Now, my mother had always told me that even among the Seelie, those who were more compassionate towards the human race, there were some who would always believe that our place was dead and buried out of sight. Up until now, I had not believed her; aside from the rude noble who had told off the guard all those years ago, every other being I had met had been perfectly kind. I had no reason to distrust the fairer race.

That's when _he _came. I did not catch his name, but was present for his entrance into the great hall. He strutted forward with a smirk on his face and lounged on one of the benches beside the King's throne, even though my King had not given him leave to do so. I felt my eyes narrow and I frowned into the floor I was scrubbing. Beside me, helping me in my duty, was my younger brother Tobias.

Toby was a few years younger than me, and often very bored with his work. At eleven, he was still too young to properly control the horses at the stable, so he was often stuck with feeding them and brushing their coats. He was a very happy boy, the light of my mother's world (and mine, come to think about it), but I could sense his disappointment every night he came to dinner smelling faintly of hay, manure, and sweat. I knew he desperately wanted to ride, and didn't have the heart to tell him it would probably be several more years before anything like that would ever happen (though I had my own sneaking suspicions that he had already snuck out on a few rides himself).

"So," the dark-haired King said in the loud voice of those who want everyone to look at them. And we did. "No doubt you have heard of the hunt there is to be tonight?"

"I have." I relaxed at the sound of our King's more refined, polite tones.

"Then you will be coming along?" The way he spoke made it sound more like a command, and even Toby was starting to get irritated now.

"No one talks to the King like that," he breathed in my ear, and I nodded in complete agreement.

"I'm afraid that I have other commitments tonight that acquire my attention." His tones were cool, almost a reprimand of sorts. My brother and I smiled smugly at each other.

The other lord's voice took on a whine not unlike a petulant child's. "Come off it, Iyzoli, even _Jareth _is going to be in attendance…"

"My apologies. It is a non-negotiable matter." The finality with which he spoke left no room for argument, but the lord huffed irritably.

"Very _well, _then. Could you at least find the time to lend me a servant? I am afraid that mine has, ah, _taken ill_."

The hairs on my neck stood on end. His tone was scornful, with a slight air of humor, betraying no sense of worry for his servant's well-being. Could this be one of the ones my mother had warned me about all along?

Our King was quiet for a long while, and I bit my tongue before my pleas could have a chance to escape. _Please, please don't let him take one of us. _Toby, on the other hand, was quavering with excitement, stealing eager looks at the two beings at the opposite end of the room. Apparently, I was not the only one who noticed.

Mocking laughter ricocheted off the high walls. "You have a boy doing a woman's work?"

I most nearly jumped out of my skin, just barely grabbing the water bucket in time to keep it from tipping. Toby, already on pins and needs, leapt up to his feet with blazing eyes. The lord was striding toward us, the King close behind. At first glance, he looked wary, but his facial expression turned calm so quickly, I was sure it had just been my imagination.

"Young Tobias is always willing to help, regardless of the task," our King replied smoothly. My brother looked as if he would explode any moment from being the center of attention.

The lord took no notice of me as he surveyed my brother with a critical eye. Toby stood stock-still. "_Small…light…quiet_." The lord kept muttering to himself as he surveyed the young boy from his head to his toes. Then, he abruptly rounded on our King. "This boy will do Iyzoli."

I could tell that Toby was trying his best not to break out into a smile upon hearing this, but I myself was filled with dread as I stepped forward. "Please, sir, he does not even know how-"

My back connected with the floor before I realized what had happened. I lifted a shaking hand to my stinging cheek as the lord returned his own hand to his side, glowering down at me with disgust.

King Iyzoli snarled, a sound of which I had never before heard. "I will not allow you to come into my house and abuse my servants, Cavornon."

The lord snorted and turned smartly on his heel. "Perhaps, then, you should teach them proper manners." As he sauntered out of the room, he turned his head slightly. "Boy."

Toby jumped, his face ashen. "Yes, sir?"

"You will await me in the courtyard at dusk. Do not be late."

Tobias had been loath to leave my side as the hour grew nearer. My face still stung where Cavornon had struck, but I was more worried for Toby than for myself. I did not want him going anywhere with that malicious heathen, but what was I to do? Tell him he could not go, and have the lord tear up the castle in search of him? There was nothing that could be done; even her mother was resigned to that fact.

As dusk approached, I kissed his cheek affectionately as if kissing him goodnight. He was dressed in a rider's outfit; breeches, boots, and a riding vest and all. Everything was slightly too big for him, and that thought made my eyes sting with tears; the stables did not make riding clothes for boys under fifteen, let alone for an eleven year-old.

After the hunting party left, it was not long before the howling of hounds on the trail began. The sound made me feel slightly ill; somewhere out there, a poor creature was fleeing for his life, not being pursued for food or clothing, but for _sport_.

I sat awake in the gardens, feeling perfectly at-ease in the warm air of the summer. My mother I could tell was still uneasy, but she had retired a while ago. I did not begrudge her for it. Mother was one of the head servants, and had a lot more work to do than the rest of us. No doubt she was tired. I tried to tune out the sound of the baying, but, predictably, was unsuccessful.

The howls were sometimes close to the castle walls, and other times, it faded away. I guessed that the deer was old and clever, and kept leading his adversaries through the river, where the scent was easily lost. I liked the thought of the stag outsmarting the hounds and fleeing into the mountains. But as I was imagining a magnificent deer bounding up the cliffs, the howling suddenly stopped, and sadness made my shoulders slump. The hunt must have ended, then, for the dogs to quiet so quickly. That poor creature.

The sound of horse hooves galloping quickly against the earth reached my ears, and I rose to retreat into the castle, not wanting to be around when they dragged their prize in. But to my surprise, only one horse raced through the gate, and the lone figure that slid off the beast's back seemed to be carrying something in her arms, a body too small to be that of a deer. Panic swelling in my chest, I followed him as he swept into the castle.

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"His neck has broken," the healer said softly, his fingers resting lightly on my brother's throat. I was sitting on the floor of the infirmary, not caring how undignified I looked, my head resting in my hands. The one who had brought my brother in was standing quietly in the doorway with a hollow look in his eyes. Upon getting a good look at him, I had realized that he and the rude noble from the years gone by were one and the same, but I was too grief-stricken to be indignant about it now.

The healer spoke again in the same soft tones. "May I ask what happened?"

"Cavornon has always valued horses of quick and light step," the noble began. "So, naturally, he rides on his horse alone, and gives his weapons to his servant to carry so he does not weight his horse down. The hunt had been going rather well; the boy certainly handled his horse with surprising efficiency. But when we came upon the stag, he demanded the boy give him his bow, and the child, untrained, took too long to respond. By the time he had given Cavornon the bow, the stag had escaped, and Cavornon threw it at his stallion's feet. It frightened the horse. He reared back and the boy wasn't able to control him. He fell."

My hands were clenched in my hair so tightly it hurt. Part of me was wondering why the healer wasn't doing anything, why he wasn't helping my brother. But I knew. I knew it was because there was nothing that could be done.

The silence that had fallen over the room was broken when my mother suddenly burst in, pushing past the noble and falling over her son with a strangled sort of wail. "My son! My boy, what has happened to you?"

"My condolences."

I turned my head to stare numbly at the person crouched beside me. His mismatched eyes did not waver from mine, not even when a strand of his candy-floss blonde hair fell into them.

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"I am partly responsible. I should have told Cavornon to leave the child here." My mother's wails were piercing, but I could hear every word he spoke. "I would like for you to accepted this."

He was offering a small, translucent orb, no bigger than a pearl. It rolled to and fro on his gloved palm, giving off a faint glow. Knowing it would be rude to object, I plucked it from his hand.

"What is it?" asked I, wincing at how hoarse my voice was.

"My signature." He rose to his feet. "Should you ever need help in darkened times."

I placed it within the folds of my dress to appease him. I would never use it. I turned to watch my mother sob over Toby's body.

And couldn't help but think…t'was all for a silly sport.

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	2. Chapter 2

One does not have the time to mourn their lives away in such a large castle with so many things to be done. My mother never completely recovered from Toby's death, and she would often go still at work and gaze off into the distance, and I would know that her minds was miles away, in a different time. I am sure that I was like that the first weeks, too, and I do still feel the pain of his loss, but I kept my head forward, because the older I became, the more likely I was to be taken away to serve elsewhere.

Our King was on pleasant speaking terms with all the lords and aristocrats who lived within his kingdom, so whenever they approached him, needing "perhaps one servant or two", he would graciously oblige their request, for there was always an abundance of servants in the castle, and we could all stretch ourselves a little more to fill the holes where others had once stood. I always knew when someone was leaving; for years I had watched the older girls, and there would be times when strange men would come up and discreetly watch them work, and then approach them and inspect their hands and feet and ask them questions, to which they dutifully responded. And then the next day, one of them would be gone, the others still working as if nothing had happened. At first, this saddened me, but as time wore on and I saw it happen again and again, I realized it was simply a fact of our lives.

And so it was, as myself and a friend went out on blustery morning to retrieve water, I happened to notice a stranger walking along the inside of the wall. He looked innocent enough, but I was wary still, so I gave Willow a nudge and tipped my head in his direction.

"John Manly," she said in undertone to me as she lowered the bucket into the well. "He was sent here from Birtwick Park, I hear."

I was familiar with the place; many trips to the market had taken me past his estate. A beautiful place, but much smaller than any castle, so I was curious as to why Squire Gordon, the master of the house, would need servants for such a small home, and I voiced it so.

"Haven't you heard? His oldest maid, Bethleen something-or-other, passed a week ago. He most likely needs a replacement."

As Willow quietly blabbered on about who she thought would be picked, I glanced at John Manly out of the corner of my eye, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. If I was chosen to leave, would I be happy? _Don't be silly, _I scolded myself. _It's not as if I would be miles away, why, Birtwick Park is practically right next door! _I would certainly be able to come back and visit, I was sure. And so as Willow and I ducked back into the kitchens, shedding our outer coats and rolling up our sleeves to prepare for the day's work, I managed to put John Manly and Squire Gordon out of my mind completely.

It was early afternoon before I saw him again. I was alone this time, cleaning the windows of one of the lesser-used corridors when he rounded the corner. We both jumped upon seeing each other and laughed. He offered a polite greeting and a warm smile, which I countered with a docile "Good afternoon, sir" and a curtsy. He asked me simple questions as I returned to my work; what was my name? how long had I been a servant? What nature of work was I used to doing? They were easy enough questions, and I answered them as truthfully as I could. When I had finished, he took my damp hands in his and inspected the skin of my palms. They were calloused and hard now, the sign of many years of hard work. He hummed in satisfaction and, with a slight bow at the waist, turned and went back the way he came.

None of us left that night, but the next morning he was back, this time accompanied by a tall, fair-haired elf who I could only assume was the Squire. His clothing was fine and his neck arched proudly, but his face and his eyes were soft as he surveyed us servants running to and fro, our arms filled with various things.

Part of me should have liked to be lazy, to purposefully drop things or have a bad temper. Anything that would allow me to stay here in my childhood home, for though they seemed kind, this was where my friends were, where my entire life had been spent. But my mother's words came back to me. I should always do my country proud, always walk with my head high and my shoulders back. I worked harder than ever that day, always aware of their scrutiny.

"They're watching you," one girl muttered as she passed me a full basket to be taken inside. I wanted to look over to see for myself whether or not that was true, but kept my eyes down and told her to stop being silly.

When I finally retired to my room that night, I had just fallen onto the bed I shared with my mother when the woman herself burst through the door, practically glowing.

"Sarah Williamson!" She cried, almost shouting as she dragged me out of the bed into a hug. I felt completely bewildered; had my mother lost her wits completely?

"We're so proud!"

Ah, so that was it…for a moment, I felt slightly put out that my mother was so happy that I would be leaving. But I knew that Birtwick Park was just a stone's throw away, and perhaps wouldn't be so bad after all. And my mother was…_happy_. Laughing and patting my cheek affectionately while prattling on about how thrilled everyone was that John Manly and Squire Gordon had thought so highly of me. But her words became meaningless background noise as elation swelled in my chest.

_I made my mama smile…_

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As the Park was so near, we would be walking there without need of a carriage. Before leaving with John Manly the next morning, my mother took me into her arms and stroked her hands through my hair.

"Squire Gordon is a fair fellow," she had said, "as I hope for all of your masters to be. You will never suffer at his hands. But a servant's life is so unpredictable! We have no say in who buys us or who we will be given away to, be they kind or cruel. But always remember to do your best, my dear, and always keep up your good name."

Her words echoed through my mind now as I walked silently along the road. Though I was leaving my familiar home, I somehow felt lighter than ever (though whether or not that was due to the fact I wasn't weighted down by heaps of clothes or dishes, I couldn't tell you). John, carrying my small bag filled with my possessions, seemed to notice my fair mood and winked at me in a friendly manner as we walked in a companionable quiet.

We were approaching the gate to the Park when it suddenly swung open. A very furry, very peculiar creature strolled up, a white-and-orange mar in the lush, green fields.

_A fox? _I though curiously, and a fox it was indeed. He was dressed down in typical servant clothing, and the only thing truly odd about his appearance (other than the obvious) was the patch that covered his eye. He bowed us in as we walked through the gates, and John grinned down at him.

"Good morning to you, Didymus."

The fox bowed even lower, the tip of his narrow snout practically brushing the ground. "A very good morning to you as well, sir!" His good eye landed on me, and before I could blink, he had taken my hand and brushed his nose against it, leaving a slightly damp spot on the skin of my knuckles. I assumed this was the fox's attempt at chivalry, and could not help but smile at him, both amused and slightly puzzled.

"Would this be the lady you did speak of last night?" He asked in his gruff little voice.

"Aye, it would be," John responded in the same light-hearted fashion. To my relief, Didymus fell in step on John's other side, and I tried to indiscreetly wipe the back of my hand against my dress. The little being's gesture had been touching, yes, but I would be lying if I said I would not mind walking around the rest of the day with canine mucus on my hand.

The gatekeeper walked us to the servant's quarters, where he gave us another bow, and a cheery "good day to you, sir and miss!" and tottered off on his way. I blinked after him before turning back to John, who looked as though this sort of thing happened daily…which it probably did. He laughed at my bemused expression as he opened the door for me and swept me inside.

"Didymus is often very…overzealous," he explained. "But he is a very good fellow."

I looked around curiously. The door had opened into a cramped kitchen that, while by no means could compare to the one in the castle, was still quite nice. The only thing unpleasant about the room was the smell of burned food that lingered lightly in the air, perhaps from an early breakfast. In me mind's eye, I saw Didymus leaning over the stove experimentally and singing his whiskers, and, in spite of myself, the corners of my mouth twitched.

John was pointing things out now, and I hastened to pay attention. "One of the rooms-" he pointed to a plain wooden door on the right, "-you will be sharing with Karen. The other, that one on the left, belongs to Merry and James. Didymus prefers to makes his home outside." He drew a magnificent gold pocket watch from his coat and flipped it open. "It is very nearly time for lunch, and they are probably just finishing up preparing the meal now. I assume they will return shortly after they have served the Squire and his family, and then you shall meet them."

"But where do you sleep?" I asked, confused.

He smiled and pocketed his watch. "I am the coachman for whenever Squire Gordon must make important appearances. I live in the coachman's cottage with my wife. It is near the stables." He nodded out of one of the many windows, and I saw a small, modest little home sitting quietly at the edge of the field.

Picking up my bag, John led me to the door on the right and pushed it open lightly, revealing a rather dull and plain bedroom with two beds with straw mattresses pushed up against the walls. Another wide window, curtains thrown back, dominated the wall directly opposite the door, illuminating the room with a brilliant golden glow. I looked from one bed to the other, hesitant. Both of them were exactly the same, so I couldn't tell which one belonged to me and which was that of the other servant. There were no personal belongings on the nightstands by either bed, nothing that marked that someone slept there every night. No frayed letters from family members or the odds-and-ends piece of cheap jewelry. I wondered what kind of woman this Karen could be, to live such a bland lifestyle.

My ever-helpful guide unknowingly poked me in the right direction, however, when he set my bag on the left bed. He nodded to trunk at the foot of the mattress, telling me how I could place all of my clothes there if I so desired, along with anything else. And then with a bow, he was off through the bedroom door.

I sat on the edge of my bed, not knowing what else to do, and started pulling things from the sack. There was not much to unpack; I had two simple dresses apart from the one I was currently wearing, and a simple chemise that I wore to bed. Folded very carefully between the two servant dresses was a white gown my mother had sewn herself. I had only worn it once during the Winter Solstice feast that had been hosted in the Elven Kingdom, in which all of the servants had been required to look as dazzling as possible. I took it out gingerly and let it unfold, where it pooled on the ground at my feet. While it was nothing compared to the elaborate get-ups that some of the noblewomen wore, it was still quite handsome, and it was with great care that I put it in the trunk with my other clothes, slightly apart from the rest.

At the very bottom of the sack were a few notes from the friends I had at the castle. Though, honestly, to call them notes was a bit of a stretch. Not many servants, myself included, knew how to read, so most of them had simply scrawled their names on torn pieces of parchment and handed them to me before I left. But I didn't need to read a lengthy tale anyways; just seeing their names triggered all the memories of the past fourteen and a half years. I smiled to myself as I stacked them neatly into a pile to be placed on my nightstand. To make sure I had forgotten nothing before shoving the sack under my bed, I reached into it and felt the bottom with my fingers. I felt something warm roll against my hand, and I was surprised at myself for almost forgetting about the pearl.

Pulling it out, I squeezed it between my index finger and thumb and brought it to my face to inspect it; I honestly hadn't thought about it much since receiving it, and the only reason it had managed to end up in my bag at all was most likely because my mother had packed all my possessions for me while I had been making hasty rounds to all my friends to say goodbye. It was a curious little thing. At this particular angle, when I looked at it, it looked like an ordinary opalescent orb. But when I turned it _that way_, it was almost as if I was holding nothing, like my fingers were pinched on empty air, though I could still feel it there. How odd.

_Like the man who gave it to you, _my mind spoke wryly. Frowning, I set the crystal pearl on the nightstand and turned away. The blond-haired noble hadn't been in my thoughts for a few months now, and thinking about him made my head ache. One day I had seen him and he had acted the arrogant aristocrat, but when I next saw him again, he had been almost kindly, genuinely sorrowful at my brother's death. A real enigma, to say the least.

However, before I could dwell over such mysteries to any extent, the front door to the servant quarters was flung open, the sound of it bouncing off the wall jarring me out of my thoughts so suddenly that I almost slipped off the edge of the bed. As I collected myself, a woman appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips as she looked me over with an unimpressed air.

My first thought upon looking at her was that she was not one to be trifled with; though she could be no older than thirty, the haughty tilt to her chin and the hard look in her eyes belonged to someone much older. The truly odd thing about her, however, was the fact that her honey-blond hair was short, cut like a young boy's would be. My hand unconsciously drifted to my own locks, an action she did not miss if the narrowing of her eyes was anything to go by.

"So," she began, strutting across the threshold to stand by her own bed, "this is the chit I am to be sharing a room with?"

"My dear lady, you could be more generous!" Exclaimed a voice in a chastising tone as a man poked his head and torso around the door. His black hair was streaked with flecks of gray and white, and the lines around his face revealed his age, but his glittering blue eyes were young and mirthful as they landed on me. "Ah, welcome to Birtwick Park, my lady! I would step in but, well…" He grinned sheepishly, and I understood immediately; it was most improper for a _gentleman _to set foot in a lady's room. But he looked friendly enough, and I felt like I could trust him…however, I had no right to invite him in, as this was as much Karen's room as it was mine.

My worries were for naught, it seemed, as the short-haired roman gave an impatient wave. "Nonsense, Merry. You are welcome here." She folded her arms and looked at me as if daring me to say a word otherwise. I bit my tongue, for if I hadn't I probably would have given this snotty female the telling off of her life. _Always keep up your good name, _my mother had said. I bowed my head politely in acquiescence. As Merry stepped in, Karen turned to look at the notes on my nightstand, and then her eyes fell on the tiny crystal.

"What is that?"

My heart gave a small bound in my chest as I picked up the orb to cradle it in my hand. "A gift. From my father." The lie had leapt unbidden to my lips, and it tasted foul and sour in my mouth; I had never lied before.

Her eyes narrowed. "How interesting," she said, not sounding the least bit interested at all. "What was your father like, then?"

"I don't know. I never saw very much of him." An honest answer, truth be told. The children of servants were almost always brought up by their mothers, unless they were incapable of doing so. There was no real _need _for a father, as my mother had taught me everything I needed to know. In my lifetime, I had passed him several times on the castle grounds or in the halls, where we would exchange polite greetings, but I felt nothing for him beyond that.

Karen opened her mouth to ask what I assumed would be another question when the front door opened again. "Miss Karen, my fair maiden!" Came the squeaky voice of that gatekeeper fox. "The master does wish to speak with you now!" She adopted an ill-tempered looked as she stalked out of the room, growling under her breath about silly foxes. Merry stepped aside to let her pass before settling clumsily on the edge of her trunk, opposite of me.

"You mustn't be too judgmental of Miss Karen," he began in earnest, fiddling with his hands as he spoke. "Her ill temper is a very bad habit, one that she came here with. Why," he voice dropped to a quieter tone, and I had to lean in to hear what he was speaking, "Miss Flora and Miss Jessie used to come here, because I am their favourite. They would come and I would entertain them and they would laugh and smile. So beautiful, those little girls are! But one day, Karen came in a temper, and snapped at them both, she did." He suddenly looked very sad. "Scared them away. And now they don't come anymore. I was hoping that you were better-mannered?"

I could feel myself frowning. "I assure you, I would never act in such a fashion, and I cannot possibly see what pleasure she gains from behaving so bitterly."

But Merry was shaking his head. "I do not think that she thinks it amusing. You see, she has said that she has never been treated kindly in her life. If that is so, and all she has known is abuse, then we cannot blame her for what her spirit has suffered. But this place is very different." He took my small hand in his much larger, rough one and smiled at me. "Believe you me, it is the greatest place for a servant to be."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey look, it only took a year. But I'll have you know, I left my old copy of Black Beauty at home when i left for college, and actually bought a new one just for the sake of continuing this story. Unfortunately, this is mostly a filler chapter.**

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The lord of Birtwick Park was never cruel to us, bless his soul, and nor was the lady, but the lady was a fairly different breed of Seelie, as far as they go. She was kind, fair, and very soft-spoken, and it does me great displeasure to think ill of her, but she was very set in her ways when it came to social class. To her, servants were things to be owned and controlled, and while she never hurt us or was unkind to us, she treated us as one would treat a beloved dog; something to be appreciated and cared for, and maybe even a part of the family, but in the end, still just a dog.

My first revelation to this fact came shortly after I had met her. I was cleaning the banisters in the main hall when I heard her voice drifting from one of the rooms upstairs. I had felt guilty about overhearing what was obviously a private conversation, and had readied myself to leave, but then I heard mention of my own name. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I couldn't resist staying to listen to the rest of their talk.

"-but Sarah is such a _dreadfully_ dull name for someone so fine," the lady was saying, and I felt a brief rush of pride, along with a small burst of indignation; here I was, a human being with feelings and emotions, and she was trying to _name me_? Like I was no better than a common _horse_? I bit my tongue. It was not my place to feel outrage or anger.

The lady's voice quavered with sorrow. "And that other human who came would not allow me to change her name to Ginger, not even when it suited her so well!"

An unladylike snort burst out of me at that comment. I liked the mistress, but perhaps it had been a bit foolish to attempt to change something about who Karen was. Karen was Karen; I could not see her as a Ginger, but I _could_ see her fury at any such suggestion.

Then the lord spoke quietly, so I had to (with a guilty twinge) listen all the harder. "My dear, surely you understand that humans are not tame pets to be named."

"But she hasn't a name that _suits_ her! We must ask her if she would mind a change!"

And so it came as no surprise when the following morning, I ran into her in one of the halls, carrying a basket of fresh-laundered clothes to be hung out to dry. I curtsied respectfully but she waved me off and took my arm in hers, escorting me gracefully outside. I remained quiet as she rambled on pleasantly about the morning, and how fine the weather was, until she finally turned to face me.

"You know," she said softly, as if I alone were in her confidentiality, "_Sarah_ is such a very plain name, wouldn't you agree?"

I did not honestly agree, but the poor woman obviously did not know that her words fell on my skin like hail, so I merely smiled softly and nodded, even though I did like my plain name very much.

The lady smiled warmly. "Then what shall you be called? Perhaps Merle?"

"That is a nice name, my lady," I responded automatically, even though I had known a very foul-tempered Merle growing up in my old home. The idea of sharing her name unsettled me slightly, so it was a great relief when the mistress changed her mind, her pointer finer on her chin thoughtfully.

"No, no, you are much prettier than Merle ever was. Merle was my sister," she added as an afterthought. "She has since passed, rest her soul, but she is never forgotten. She was a very handsome woman, you know, but not even she can surpass your beauty."

While I sat there, feeling both flustered and flattered, a curious expression came over her face. "Also, Merle is quite a human name, still rather plain, and you, why, if you're hair weren't so dark you could almost pass for a faerie. What of Beaunoire?"

I perked up at the foreign name that rolled off her tongue, sounding both strange and familiar at the same time. While Sarah would be my name always and forever, Beaunoire would make a very suitable pet name if I absolutely had to have one.

"Yes, Beaunoire would fit perfectly." She ran a dainty hand through my dark tresses. "It means black beauty, you know…"

Folding the dry clothes neatly into the basket, I managed to tune out the rest of her sweet ramblings, giving a quiet hum or nod of ascension whenever it was required of me, and my lady, bless her heart, paid little heed to my absent mind.

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While Birtwick Park was certainly smaller than the house of the Elf King, it was by no means less busy. There was always some lesser lords or nobles popping in to stay the night with their families, on their way to some meeting or other with some pompous dignitary. And even on the days where one of the lesser-knowns would make their appearance, the park was still alive with frivolous preparations. It was on such days that I would have to work in very close quarters with Karen, and found, much to my own personal relief, that she wasn't nearly as nasty as I would have formerly believed.

I had been wondering how we would get along, but when I entered the kitchens on that first busy morning, she did nothing but give a little haughty sniff before going back to work. She did her work honestly and efficiently, and pulled more than her fair share, and I could never wish to have a better companion in the kitchen. Even at the peak of the afternoon, when the sun was at its highest and the ovens filled the small space with blazing heat and my hair stuck to the back of my neck with sweat, she worked as diligently as though it were the coolest of evenings. Forced as we were to share living quarters and work space, it wouldn't do to remain hostile, and so after the first few evenings of dry quips and snappy retorts, we grew used to each other, and her vicious exterior began to fade away. Within the first few weeks, we had grown to be sociable, perhaps even friends.

Merry had little to do with the kitchen, and, what with him being a man, he certainly didn't sleep with us. He kept mostly to his own room, which he shared with James. Karen and I rarely saw them during the day, save for the little dinners we would all sit down to after the last chore had been done and we were free to spend the evening as we wished. They were well-behaved and proper gentlemen, the two of them, and never did anything to make us feel uncomfortable or unwanted in their conversation.

While working, we would exchange stories and experiences. Karen particularly seemed to enjoy hearing about my upbringing, and lamented often about never having such a fine youth. It took me several weeks to pluck up the courage to ask her why, and she gave me such a hard look when I asked, I almost immediately apologized. But it had been a slow day with no nobles to pay heed to, and while we were washing the windows in an unnatural silence, she had begun to speak haltingly.

"You are so very sheltered," she began, wringing her cloth with unnecessary force. "Your brother may have died at the hands of Cavornon-"

"'twas an accident," I cut across quietly, diplomatically. "The Lord couldn't have possibly-"

"Do you ever listen to yourself?" Karen interrupted, quite angrily, giving her head a toss for good measure. "He may be a brute, but he isn't a fool. He knew better than to take your brother at his age, but he did not _care_." She gave me a chilly glance. "You know this. And yet you defend him as if the very stars in the sky shine only for him."

"Mother told me that thinking ill of others does naught but embitter your heart and spirit."

Karen let out an unflattering bark of laughter, but there was little humor in it.

"Your mother was very wise." She attacked the glass with her cloth as though it had done her personal injury. "From the moment I could live without the aid of a mother, I was taken away and put with another lot of children. They cared none for me, and I cared none for them in turn. We never received a kind word from our masters in our lives."

She paused to dip her cloth into the water, and did not continue until she had wrung it out. The splashing the excess water made as it splashed back into the bucket seemed disturbingly loud compared to her quiet tone. "I do not mean to say that we were mistreated or abused. But we never received praise for our work, never a kind word or a pat on the head."

I began to think, rather sadly, of the praise heaped on me whenever I did a good day's work as a child, even for the most minimal of tasks.

"Whenever we went to the market, a gang of Seelie boys would usually be there to throw stones at us and taunt us with malicious things I shan't repeat. They rarely landed it hit, but it turned us against any sort of magic folk at an early age. As we were left mostly to our own devices, we turned wild. When it came time for us to be sold off, we found ourselves at the hands of masters who were expecting good little girls and boys, not a wild lot of ruffians."

"I cannot blame them for their frustration. But they shouldn't have blamed _me _for my ignorance. I had no mother to whisper wise things in my ear. I had no one to sort out wrong from right, proper from offensive. They expected me to understand immediately what I was expected to do, and how I was supposed to act in their esteemed presence. Esteemed!" She growled and stomped her foot, as though the very thought of it infuriated her. "Nothing but a sniveling lot of nobles, if you ask me! If they had simply taken the time to guide me through my tasks, things may have been different. I may have become as well mannered as you. But what they did, they hoisted things upon me I didn't understand. Tasks I could not complete properly, for I had never done them before. And instead of a polite reprimand and advice on how to do the job right, I received a box on the ears and a harsh word. Esteemed!" She said again.

"I suppose I did not make it easy for them, for I snapped back often and was very ill-tempered. I changed hands frequently. While some of the nobles I served under were kinder than others, and were kind enough to advise me on propriety and tasks I did not know how to do, I was so ill-suited to being amongst the Seelie, it wasn't long until I was gone again, another land, another master. I eventually came to serve a rather unpleasant lord who had been keen after me because he had so loved my hair."

Her hand drifted up to sift through the short locks, and I began to feel very sorry for her, for I had the most unpleasant feeling that I knew how this story would end.

"He was demanding, and was not afraid to be abusive, but never overly so, because, you see, even the most undesirable of lords knows that an indisposed servant is a waste. But he was hard enough to keep me nervous around him. My work was hard, but I was acclimated to hard work by then, and made the most of it. But I had grown older, and was not too unpleasant to look at, if you'll permit that piece of vanity. In fact, I was rather beautiful. It was something this lord hadn't failed to notice, and he tried to take liberties that he had no right to take." Her voice quavered. "He corned me in the kitchen. I refused his advances. He attempted it again. And again I refused. I pushed him away from me with all of my strength."

I felt my spine stiffen; never did a servant have leave to touch a lord, let alone in a defiant way, but I found I couldn't blame Karen for doing so.

"He didn't like that, not one bit. He took the cleaver from the shelves and cut through my hair, straight to the scalp." Her fingers carded through her hair once more. "I often wonder if that was what he was really aiming to do, or if it was simply a narrow miss."

"I can't remember getting around him or running out of the house. All I know is that I was running. I couldn't stay for another moment. And then John Manly found me wandering in the market, and brought me here. I've only been here for a year, but I've known more kindness in this house than any other place. I've been trying to be all the nicer because of it."

And I knew her words were true, for in the coming weeks, I saw her laughing with James and Merry, exchange pleasantries with Sir Didymus, and even indulge the children in a game of hide and seek.

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**Why I wrote this story with such flowery script, I don't know, but it's pissing me off. It seems my 17-year-old self has more of a knack for it than I do currently. So if I'm teetering between old-fashioned writing and modern language, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm _trying_. Enjoy!**


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